


anything, anything

by hawksonfire



Series: Kinktober 2019 [27]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Aftercare, Asexual Steve Rogers, Deaf Clint Barton, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Explicit Masturbation, Sex Pollen, due to sex pollen, the only touching between clint and steve is hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 17:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: Steve gets dosed with sex pollen while on a mission, and he and Clint have a unique way of dealing with it.





	anything, anything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flowerparrish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish/gifts).

> Kinktober Day 27 - Sex Pollen. Bro, this is _your_ fault!!! Your ace!Steeb fic got me thinking, and then this thing happened. I hope you like it!! <33333

**Clint**

“What the fuck do you mean, he’s been dosed with a foreign substance?” Clint snarls, jabbing at the thirty-eighth-floor button on the elevator again.

“Exactly that,” Tony snarks over the intercom, “Steve’s been dosed with something and we can’t figure out what it is, but he’s been asking for you less and less politely as time goes by so we figured you’d better get down here.”

“Why wasn’t I informed earlier?” Clint asks. “I’m his boyfriend, Tony, you’re supposed to fucking notify me when shit like this happens.” The elevator doors slide open and Clint storms out, passing all the people in lab coats until he reaches the other end of the room. He scans his thumb on the scanner by the door and steps through, closing the door with a _ click _ behind him. “What do we know?”

“Not much,” Bruce says, “Best we can tell, whatever Steve was dosed with is speeding up his nervous system more than it already is, which means increased heart rate, lowered inhibitions, and -” A loud bang cuts Bruce off, making him jump, and Clint takes a second to make sure Bruce doesn’t go green, then walks over to the one-way glass window set into the wall. 

Steve stands on the other side, chest heaving and fists clenched at his sides, a dented metal fold-up chair at his side. “Where’s Clint?” He bites out, flushed. 

Tony goes to press the speaker button but Clint bats him out of the way and presses it himself. “I’m here, baby,” he soothes, “What do you need?”

Visibly struggling to get the words out, Steve works his jaw for a few minutes, getting progressively tenser as time passes. “You,” he grits through his teeth, “I need you.”

“We don’t know if what he was dosed with is contagious,” Bruce warns. Clint’s already stepping into the decontamination chamber that leads into the room Steve’s in.

“Don’t care,” Clint says, “He needs me, I’m there. Figure out a way to fix this.” He steps through the door into the other room and immediately has his arms full of super-soldier. “Hey, baby,” Clint murmurs, smoothing Steve’s sweaty hair, “How you feelin’?”

“Clint, it _ hurts_,” Steve cries into his shoulder.

“I know, baby, can you tell me where?” Clint asks. Steve doesn’t respond with words, instead he just pushes his crotch into Clint’s leg. He’s rock hard and Clint’s struck dumb, unsure how to react. “Baby?” Clint asks carefully.

“I don’t wanna,” Steve mumbles into his shoulder, “But I think I have to.”

“Steve, you’re not thinking straight right now,” Clint tries, “Whatever they gave you is messing with your brain.”

“I know that!” Steve shouts, whirling away from Clint. “I don’t _ want _ to feel like this, Clint, you know how I feel about... _ that_. But I’m pretty sure these drugs are gonna kill me otherwise.”

“Alright, alright,” Clint soothes, opening his arms and letting Steve back into them. “What do you need me to do?” He lets Steve pull him over to the bed and into the chair next to it, and just before Steve starts stripping, Clint stops him. “Hang on just a second, baby, okay?” 

“But, Clint -” Steve whines.

“I know, baby, I just gotta make sure no one else sees this, okay?” Steve nods and Clint turns to face the glass, knowing Bruce and Tony are on the other side. “Out. No one stays in that room, no one comes in here, and JARVIS stops watching and locks down the doors. No one else sees this, I mean it.”

There’s no response for a few moments, and Clint can picture the argument that Bruce and Tony are probably having - Bruce wanting to leave and respect their privacy, Tony wanting to stay so they can learn about the drug. “Alright, Clint, we’re leaving now,” Bruce’s voice says over the intercom. “You know JARVIS’ emergency code, just use that if you need anything. Otherwise, you won’t be bothered for a full 24 hours.”

If it had been Tony, Clint would’ve been worried that they stayed. But he knows Bruce wouldn’t do that, to him or Steve, so he just nods, waits a few seconds, then says, “J, cease all monitoring of this room except for vital signs, check in on us every four hours unless vital signs indicate that we’re busy or dying.”

“Of course, Agent Barton,” JARVIS says, “I am sorry this happened to you, Captain Rogers.”

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Steve bites out, visibly stopping himself from reaching for Clint.

“All monitoring of this room save vital signs has been stopped,” JARVIS says, “I will check in four hours from now.”

“Clint,” Steve growls.

“Yeah, baby, it’s okay, you do what you need to do,” Clint says gently, “I’m here in whatever capacity you want me to be.”

Steve groans and strips off his hospital gown, taking a few seconds to appreciate the air against his skin. Clint looks away, like he always does when Steve is naked in front of him, and waits until Steve tells him it’s okay. “You can look now,” he says. Clint faces him, keeping his eyes firmly trained on Steve’s face and smiles at him gently.

This is the right move because a teeny bit of tension drops from Steve’s frame. “What do you need me to do, baby?” Clint asks. “Whatever you need.”

“I can do... most of it on my own, I don’t want you to do that,” Steve says quickly. “But could you, maybe, hold my hand? I don’t wanna feel alone.”

“Of course,” Clint says, reaching out towards Steve, “I’d be happy to hold your hand.”

“And maybe listen to music and close your eyes? I think it’ll be easier if you can’t hear or see me,” Steve adds quickly. Clint digs around in his pockets until he finds his phone, then connects it to his hearing aids - thank you, StarkTech - and wiggles the phone at Steve.

“Ready to go,” Clint says. He smiles at Steve softly and squeezes his hand. “You need anything, anything at all, you just squeeze twice, okay?” Steve nods and climbs into the bed, then grabs Clint’s hand and waits for him to start the music and close his eyes. 

Clint plays his music, something loud enough to block out any sounds Steve might make, and closes his eyes, leaning back in his chair but keeping hold of Steve’s hand. He still knows what Steve’s doing, based on the way his hand tightens on Clint’s, but they manage to get through a good chunk of time like that before Steve squeezes twice on Clint’s hand. Clint immediately pauses his music and sits up, keeping his eyes closed. “You tell me when it’s okay to open them, baby.”

Silence for a minute, and then, “Okay.” Clint opens his eyes, blinking to get used to the light, and looks at Steve. “I look terrible, don’t I?” Steve rasps. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” Clint jokes, squeezing Steve’s hand gently. Steve does look terrible - he’s less flushed, but his lip is bitten bloody, his chest is a mess of dried come and worst of all, he’s got this look of self-hatred in his eyes. “Hey, baby, don’t you feel bad about this,” Clint says firmly, “You didn’t have a choice. You would have died.”

“I know,” Steve says, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“I’m going to get you a washcloth,” Clint says, “And then we’re going to ask J to have someone send us something to eat.”

“Okay,” Steve says, his eyes already drooping. Clint quickly grabs a washcloth and wets it, handing it to Steve once he gets back to the bed.

“Gentlemen, it has been four hours and I am checking in as requested,” JARVIS says suddenly. 

“J, can you have someone send us something to eat?” Clint asks. “Some lube and shower supplies as well, please.”

“Of course, Agent Barton.” A moment, and then, “Dr. Banner is requesting an update on Captain Rogers’ condition.”

“It’s better than it was,” Steve answers, “But whatever it is isn’t out of my system yet.”

“Very well, Captain Rogers. Supplies should be arriving momentarily.” Clint has a second of anxiety about how the supplies are getting to them, but the crisis is averted as the door opens and one of Tony’s bots comes rolling in, carrying everything they requested on a little tray. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Clint says, giving the bots claw a fist bump. The bot beeps at him gently and rolls out of the room, the door closing behind it. “Alright, you need to eat and shower,” Clint says to Steve, “While you’re doing that, I’ll clean up in here. Let me know if it starts getting bad again.” 

Clint goes to grab fresh sheets from the closet, but he’s stopped by Steve’s voice. “Clint? You’re not... _ mad_, right? That you can’t help me with this?”

Clint turns abruptly, walking back to Steve and grabbing his hand. “Steve, of course I’m not mad. We’ve had this conversation before, remember? You not being interested in sex is not a dealbreaker for me, it’s not even a factor. I love you, Steve, not your genitals.”

“Yeah, but -” Steve tries. 

Clint shakes his head. “No butts, unless it’s mine. There is nothing wrong with how you choose to handle this. It is your body and I will _ never _ do anything to it that you don’t want me to do. I am perfectly happy helping you the way I have been, and I’ll do it for as long as you need.”

Steve nods, then finishes eating and climbs into the shower. Clint focuses on changing the sheets and scarfing down what food he can before the drugs start ramping up again. Steve gets out of the shower, visibly more flushed, and Clint ushers him back into the bed, handing him the lube. “Clint -” Steve starts. 

“Don’t give me that, Rogers,” Clint says, shaking his head. “I know you hate this, but I hate seeing you in pain, and you’ve gotta be chafing by now.” The way Steve winces at his words tells him he’s right and Clint gently pushes the lube towards him. “Please just use this stuff for now. We can set all this shit on fire once these drugs are out of your system and you’re back to your not-so-regular super-soldier self.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, and Clint settles back into the chair, grabs Steve’s hand, shuts his eyes and plays his music. They manage to burn the drugs out of Steve’s system in twelve hours, and when they limp out of the medical suite, Clint’s arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, and find numerous doctors who all want to ask questions and draw blood and get a detailed account of what happened in that room, Clint puts his foot down. 

“Enough!” He shouts, startling them all into silence. “You are going to wait until he has rested to ask all your questions, you will be patient, and if I catch anybody, doctor or not, on our floor in the next twenty-four hours, they can expect an arrow in their ass. Clear?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before scooping Steve into his arms and striding out the door, catching the elevator up to their rooms and immediately running a warm bath for Steve once they arrive. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Steve mumbles blearily when Clint lowers him in. 

“Other way around, baby,” Clint murmurs, washing the last of Steve’s dried come off his chest, bundling him in a fluffy towel and tucking him into bed. 

Steve grabs his wrist as he’s walking away, blinking up at him through tired eyes. “Stay?”

Clint climbs into bed next to him, dropping a kiss on Steve’s forehead. “Anything you need, baby. Anything at all.”


End file.
